


at the car wash

by corelton



Category: Motorcity
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 18:12:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corelton/pseuds/corelton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Duke washes a car.</p>
            </blockquote>





	at the car wash

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rarity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rarity/gifts).



> it had to be done

The Duke has a special routine when it came to washing his precious cars, a peculiar ritual he insists on doing in complete privacy, without the aide of his usual flock of high fashion cronies. Each night, one car is selected, a long, laborious procedure where he examines each car in his garage, weighing which cars had been taken care of lately, which desperately needed a long gentle detailing, which car was the most deserving that evening of the sole attention and care of the Duke of Detroit. 

The lucky lady of the night is a Daimler stretch limousine, a good, sturdy girl who has done the Duke well on several occasions but hasn’t received much pampering as of late. He drives her into the washing garage, a special, intimate room where the Duke and his car could get some time to each other.

The Duke rolls up the sleeves of his outfit and peels off his customary gloves. The Gators follow the gloves and they’re both set in separate cubbies of the supply rack, their own special spots above the soaps, shammies and various other supplies. He surveys the room before he starts his work. It’s bare, spare for two separate buckets waiting in the corner-- both filled with warm water but only one mixed with only the highest quality of soaps crafted for the sole purpose of keeping her white paint glossy and gorgeous--, a hose coiled around a spigot, a drain in the center of the floor and the supply rack. A tan natural sponge sits in the first pail, which the Duke picks up and squeezes out. Doesn’t want to soak the poor dear as he rubs the sponge across her pearly coat in slow even swipes. He works his way methodically down her body, with measured strokes of his instrument. He carries the bucket along with him and wrings out the sponge every so often to apply an even amount of water to his initial covering. The first scrubbing is to loosen the filth clinging to her frame, gently brushing away what he could without the cleanser.

After a measure of slow, ritualistic work, the Duke trades the first bucket for the second, this time plunging his sponge into the frothy mixture of water and cleanser. He then repeats his first task, evenly and patiently running the sponge along her frame, focusing on the small corners of her trim and the curves of her windows, the places where dirt could settle and be easily missed by a lazy man, building up disrespectfully. The Duke, of course, is no such lazy man, spending as long as a quarter of an hour easing the grit and grime from such tricky spots. The glistening towers and pods of Deluxe would be jealous of the shine of this gorgeous body by the time the Duke was done with her. 

He rubs and strokes with the diligence of a man dedicated to his cause, ignoring the ache of his arm nagging at him to give it a rest. No, he would not rest until the job was done, until his lady has received the full attention she deserves. Each calculated wipe pains him further but he steels himself to finish his job. He’s here to pamper his precious girl and he refuses to slack on the job. 

Once he’s covered her entire body twice, the primary water coat and the following lathering, he sets the sudsy bucket beside its water filled twin, reaching this time for the nose. He turns the nozzle of the spigot, testing the temperature of the water, cold at first and waits for it to warm up, slowly edging from icy to tepid to lukewarm to pleasant. There we go. He douses the car in a gentle spray, rinsing and washing away the soap. This part is, as always, so much easier than the laborious rubbing and caressing of her still frame. The warm water takes away the bubbles and dirt alike, the two mixing and swirling down the drain. Its not long before he’s ready to recoil the hose and put it away, trading the nozzle for a shammy cloth to start on the tedious routine of drying her every angle. Letting such a car air-dry is never an option, the mere thought leaving unsightly spots on her delicate paint job enough to leave the taste of bile at the back of his throat. 

After running the drying cloth over her frame comes the detailed job of meticulously cleaning out the rims and tire wells, followed by glossing over the many windows of such a beauty. He stands back for a moment to admire his work so far before setting to the last and most important step of his routine, waxing.  
His wax of choice is expensive and thick and he wastes not a smudge of it as he massages the thick solution along her doors, her trunk, every inch of her. Every inch, that is, except for her hood. He has something much more special for the most impressive part of his darling. It’s slow, tiring work, rubbing the thick wax along her body without the aide of a buffer. Buffers are the tool of the lazy, people who feel they have more important things to do than spend every ounce of precious effort and time on the beauties they so take for granted in the filthy streets of Motorcity. 

In an ideal world, the Duke could combine the flair and vehicular freedom of Motorcity with the cleanliness of their utopian topper, but, unfortunately, this isn’t a perfect world he’s living in. At least he can have moments of perfection, alone in his washing garage with his chosen lady of the evening. 

The tedious task of waxing the majority of the Daimler is finally finished and the Duke can attend to his favorite part of the washing process. Long legs carry him effortlessly to face the hood of the sparkling automobile before him. A smile quirks at one corer of his lips as he lays an intimately bare hand tenderly on the hood. “Just a little longer, my darling.”

His free hand moves from his hip to the fly of his pants, the other hand still gently thumbing the cold, smooth hood of the limo. He flicks the button open and reluctantly retracts his hand, gripping the hem of his pants to help ease the zipper down. The sound of little metal hooks unhitching is exciting, the slow drag of the tab spiking his anticipation. It takes patience to hold out this long, the way his constantly hardening erection has been pressing up against seams in his unders and pants uncomfortably ever since the initial wetting of the car. The opening of his fly eases the pressure somewhat, but not enough to cause him much relief. Slender fingers dip under the waist band of the silky gold thong he put on this morning specifically for this moment, teasingly running as far along his dick as the unforgiving fabric will allow. A clenched hiss of mild satisfaction slips from between his teeth, the crooked smirk from earlier spreading into a full smile. 

After a few more tortuous moments of self-teasing, he draws his eager cock from the confines of its soft golden prison. It’s flushed and throbbing, ready for the gentle strokes he gives it, building speed and intensity as he continues. Every few trips up his shaft he dares to swipe a thumb over the head, noting with satisfaction that he’s already leaking pre-come. It smears over his thumb and is spread down his shaft as he continues to pump his fist roughly. 

It’s not long until his body seizes, finally releasing himself across the hood of the car, leaving three thick streaks of come. The smile that had faltered in his masturbatory efforts grows again at a job well done. Almost done. He tucks his now flaccid cock away in his pants once more, doing the fly up with ease. He then reaches for the rag tucked carefully in his back pocket, to rub the fluids carefully into the thick metal hood of his lady. Tender, careful rubbing eases the jizz into the car.

He leans forward to place a gentle kiss against the hood ornament, cooing to the car, “Was it as good for you as it was for me, baby?”


End file.
